


Master Holmes

by spankingsherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Verse 2, M/M, Roleplay, Spanking, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:17:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4709063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spankingsherlock/pseuds/spankingsherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock engage in a little bit of cliche teacher/student roleplay for Sherlock's latest punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out at spankingsherlock.tumblr.com :)

The below situation is a teacher/student roleplay on behalf of the boys. Real teacher/student bothers me greatly. I just wanted to let you know because it’s not revealed until the end.

"Master Holmes."

 _Professor_ John Watson eyed the beautiful young man as he entered the office. He had a confident swagger that drove Watson positively mad on so many levels. He did, however, detect the slightest hint of nervousness.

"Yes _sir_?" asked the pupil. In most, it was a sign of respect but John noticed a bit of defiance in the title immediately.

"What happened with you and Anderson today, Master Holmes?"

The boy's face tightened considerably.

"He was being an idiot," he stated plainly. "I merely pointed out a few indiscretions on his part."

"Do you think you were being insensitive?" John asked.

"I was just honest."

"Were you kind?" John sighed. "Were your observations kind and necessary?"

Another nervous swallow from his student.

"No."

"Sherlock Holmes, you are a brilliant young man but so insensitive. You don't think of the needs of others. I think you deserve a punishment, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," he whispered in reply.

"Good," John said, standing up. "Go ahead and undo your trousers. Take them down, pants too."

Sherlock, to his credit, did not protest. Boldly, he pulled down his pants and trousers together, not even cowering to hide his private parts. John had to physically force his gaze upward.

"Good boy. Now hands on the end of my desk and bend over."

Sherlock did exactly as he was told, while John watched, walking over to the other side of the room and retrieving the flattest of their wooden paddles. It had a sharp sting and drove home a good message. John took a moment just to enjoy the image of Sherlock Holmes bent over, his shapely pale backside prominent and presented to him.

"I want you to count," he said, laying the paddle against his pale skin.

John reeled back the paddle and let it smash down on Sherlock’s perfect pale skin. A burst of color flushed over the pale globes of what was a totally beautiful backside. Sherlock jumped and inhaled sharply, a beautiful sound if there ever was one.

“I said count.”

“One,” Sherlock gasped.

“One what?”

“One, sir.”

John brought the paddle down again, sharply. It landed across both of Sherlock’s cheeks. Sherlock moaned in pain this time and that was a truly beautiful sound.

“Two- two sir!”

What John loved most, as he began to build up a rhythm with his sturdy strikes of the paddle, was the way that Sherlock’s deep, masculine voice became higher, shriller with each blow. By number ten, Sherlock was whining in low towns and screeching each number in turn.

By fifteen, Sherlock was crying out each time, shaking his backside back and forth in a futile attempt to avoid the pain.

“Just five more,” John assured.

“Sixteen, sir…ah…ow! Seventeen…sir!”

Sherlock was crying. It was subtle and John didn’t notice it at first, but his voice had gone stuffy.

“Eighteen…ah please…sir. Nineteen sir.”

John laid the last one down and Sherlock leaned forward, chest against the desk.

“Twenty sir,” he whispered, his voice oddly serene when you considered his emotional, distressed state.

“Good boy,” John soothed. “Take a moment to compose yourself and then you may replace your pants and trousers.”

Sherlock stood up after a moment and pulled both up, slowly, taking care to do it gingerly. He met John’s eyes and John saw the streaks of tears that ran down his face.

“Have you learned a little lesson?” John asked quietly, reaching out and stroking Sherlock’s cheek. It kind of broke the moment, broke through his role as professor, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yes, sir.”

"And what was the lesson?" John asked patiently.   
  
"To be kind," Sherlock murmured under his breath. "I need to be kind and thoughtful. I can't hurt others."  
  
"Good boy."  
  
"Sir?"   
  
"Yes, Master Holmes?"  
  
Sherlock smiled softly; it was a beautiful smile that took John's breath away. "I could really use a little help with the pain," he drawled, leaning forward and connecting his lips with John's. The spell was broken with that kiss and John Watson was no longer a professor, but a giddy lover and Sherlock Holmes was no longer an errant student, but an adoring one.   
  
John cupped Sherlock's cheek. "How was that?" he whispered. "Did I do alright? I didn't go too hard did I?"   
  
Sherlock shook his head from side to side, muttering, "it was perfect."  
  
"Good boy," John teased. "Now let's see what we can do to make you feel better, Master Holmes."


End file.
